Confessions
by Ivi Poison
Summary: A drunken Regina shows up at Emma's apartment in the middle of the night. {Swan Queen twoshot}


Somehow when Regina had pictured this scenario, she'd imagined that Emma would be the one standing outside the window, drunkenly calling her name in the middle of the night.

She isn't even sure how she wound up here. Certainly she hadn't thought she'd begun drinking tonight with the intent of finally having this conversation with the savior, but as the night had progressed, she'd realized that was exactly why. The undeniable looks they've been giving each other, the tension whenever they're in a room together, the jerking backwards whenever their hands accidentally brush together – it's all become too much. Regina is feeling lonely and romantic and Emma isn't waking up.

So she picks some pebbles off the ground and hurls them at the window. It's only a story up, but any movement feels like she's swimming through Jell-O, and using magic just wouldn't feel _authentic_ enough.

But still, she isn't _that_ drunk. She'd managed to poof herself over here, after all. And yes, it had taken several tries and during one of those tries she'd found herself standing inside a tree, but that is completely beside the point.

"Come on," she mutters under her breath as she throws another handful of pebbles. Only a few of them are hitting the right window, and she fervently hopes she won't have to explain to one of her citizens why their mayor and former queen is standing outside their window after having had perhaps just a _little_ bit too much to drink.

To her relief, it's Emma's window that finally pops open, and she hears a sleepy but wary voice call out a quiet, "Who's there?"

"Me," Regina calls back. Sure, maybe she's having a little bit of difficulty stringing words together, but it doesn't really matter. Why go to all the trouble piecing together a sentence when all you have to say is one word?

"Regina?" Emma's head pokes out of the window and she rubs at her eyes. "Regina. It's like four in the morning. Are you – were you throwing pebbles at my window? What is this, elementary school? You could have just texted me. I keep my phone turned up in case the sheriff's department needs me."

"Emma," Regina orders, trying her best not to sway as she speaks. "Come down. We need to talk." She's proud of how few of her words slur together.

Emma stares down at her, becoming more alert as she takes the situation in. "Regina, are you drunk?"

"Not really," Regina replies, then realizes she's holding a bottle of scotch and tries to hide it behind her back. Damn it, why did she bring that with her? She's sure Emma must have seen it. "Look. Just come down, all right?"

It takes another second of staring for Emma to shake her head with what could almost be amusement. "All right. Just let me put some shoes on, okay? I'll be down in five minutes."

She's there in three minutes and seventeen seconds – _probably_ ; Regina isn't quite sure how accurate her sense of time is right now – and it still takes far too long. When the door opens, Regina's leaning heavily against the wall, having just downed what little remained of the scotch before tossing the bottle over…well, somewhere. Her head is starting to ache, and she isn't quite sure how much longer she'll be in control of her actions, but if this doesn't happen now, she's sure it never will.

When Emma opens the door, Regina forces herself upright as fast as she can, but unfortunately it's too fast. She stumbles forward, dizziness and nausea threatening to overwhelm her as she falls towards the ground, only to have her arm caught.

"Hey," Emma says, looking concerned. Regina tries to focus on her face, but it's too fuzzy for her to make out the features, and her eyes immediately drift downward. Emma hadn't even bothered to put a bra on underneath her wafer-thin tank top, and she's wearing these _atrocious_ sweatpants Regina can only hope belong to her mother.

"Do you _sleep_ in this?" she demands, trying to gesture at Emma's clothing but succeeding only in brushing her hand against it. "This is completely unacceptable, Miss Swan. You look like a dwarf."

"A dwarf?" And goddamn it, her laugh is the most beautiful thing Regina's heard all night. "And what do you sleep in, Madame Mayor? Silk pajamas, hand-tailored and imported from Italy?"

"Yes, actually," Regina mutters, her gaze fixated on the other woman's chest. She assumes Emma will think it's because she isn't quite able to hold her head up, and if she does think that – well, she'd be half right. Regina's leaning heavily forward for a lot of reasons.

She feels a hand placed gently under her chin and suddenly finds herself staring into Emma's bright green eyes. "Hey. Let's sit down on the steps, okay?" And Regina thinks she nods, but she isn't sure because she's too busy staring at the most gorgeous eyes that have probably ever existed, and she lets herself be led to the steps and guided into a seating position. It's quite possibly the longest Emma's ever touched her for, and she stumbles on purpose just to feel the other woman catch her again.

"All right, Regina," Emma says once they're sitting. Regina isn't sure if she realizes she's still holding her hand. "What are you doing here?"

Even drunk, Regina doesn't enjoy being candid. Instead she lets her gaze wander upwards. "The stars are beautiful tonight, aren't they?"

She hears Emma snort right before she snaps her fingers in front of Regina's face. "Hey. No. Eyes over here. You woke me up, it's four in the morning and tomorrow's my day off so I was planning on sleeping in, so you're gonna talk."

"Fine," Regina says with a sigh. "I'm here because…well, why do you think I'm here?"

"Don't dodge my questions," Emma says, and now she's crossing her arms and giving Regina a hard look that almost makes her feel offended. "I'd like to go back to sleep, you know."

Now there's an opening Regina can't resist. "Would you? Or would you rather do…something else?" She smirks, giving Emma a pointed onceover (which she feels is quite impressive for somebody who's sitting down) as she lets her tongue just barely run over her lips. Emma looks startled, but her cheeks flush and she looks away.

"I…what?" she asks, and then repeats, "What?"

She looks a lot more taken aback than Regina had imagined she would, and now she can't find the words and Emma is staring at her with an expression she can't read and she's really, _really_ had too much to drink so she just leans forward and she kisses her.

It's a kiss far more chaste than the one she wants to give, but she's also currently finding motor coordination so difficult that she's surprised she can even manage this one. And maybe it's good enough anyway, because she hears Emma's breath catch in her throat.

Her lips are just as soft as she thought they'd be and she tastes like morning breath but Regina doesn't care and for just a brief second, she feels Emma kissing her back. She feels the other woman's hand move and brush against her arm like she wants to pull her closer. But then her hand moves again, and she's pulling away, holding it up to stop Regina from trying again. "Regina, you're _drunk_. You don't mean this."

"Of course I do," Regina says, irritated. "This has been the elephant in the room for far too long, Emma."

And Emma just stares at her, searching her eyes for the answer to a question she hasn't asked, and then she sighs and repeats, "You're _drunk_."

Regina leans forward again. "But I wouldn't mind kissing you even if I were sober."

"I'm not going to take advantage of you, Regina," Emma says, leaning backwards with a pained expression that could mean a lot of things. "If you...look, if you wake up in the morning and you still want to…if you still want to talk about this, then we will. Okay?"

How annoyingly _valiant_ of her. But she should have expected it, really; it was so very typical of the Charmings to push their own desires aside for others. Their family weakness, as it were.

"And what if I do still want to talk about it?" Regina murmurs. She locks eyes with Emma in what she _really really hopes_ is a sexy expression. From Emma's sharp intake of breath and the way she bites her bottom lip as she glances away, blushing again, it seems she's been successful.

"Then I…" Emma looks like she really wants to say something, but she pauses, looking almost disappointed. "You won't even remember this in the morning, will you?"

"If I don't, you'll just have to remind me," Regina says, having just thought of a way to use that irritating valor to her advantage. "Because I'll want to know why I'm sleeping in your apartment."

Emma's eyes widen. "What?"

"Unless you were planning on letting me magic myself home after drinking the better part of a bottle of scotch?"

"A full _bottle_? Regina," Emma says, looking like she's about to give a lecture before giving in and grinning. " Yeah, okay, I've done that. But I thought I might just give you a ride back to the mansion."

"Oh, I don't think so, dear," Regina replies. "Either I sleep in your apartment or I sleep right here on these steps, which is most unbecoming, don't you think? I might never forgive you for it."

She looks down at the steps pointedly, but she doesn't have to see Emma's face to know she's rolling her eyes. "All right, Regina. Fine. Let's get you inside."

They're the words of someone who's annoyed at being inconvenienced, but Emma's voice betrays her. She sounds nervous and excited at the same time and as she places her arm around Regina's waist, letting the other woman brace against her, Regina can feel her body tense up like she's afraid. In response, Regina leans heavily against her as they walk into the building.

They'll just have to have this conversation in the morning.


End file.
